think!'
'Think?' rumbled Wrathburn. He twitched his tail harder, flattening a suit of silver armor. He didn't want to hear about some king, but about himself. 'You mentioned this king before. What about him?'
'To think he would send me to slay you!' wailed Sunbright. 'How could one man be so heartless as to think of assaulting something so proud, so famous! Why, better to command that I put out the sun than cause the world to lose the glory of Wrathburn the Magnificent! I would become the most hated man in existence! And yet…'
'Yet what?' Flames flickered all around the dragon's snout, throwing black shadows across the crags of his face.
'Why, the One King must be jealous! That's it! He's sat too long on his throne, accumulated too much power, and has come to think he's the equal of Wrathburn. Consumed as this petty man is with jealousy, he's sent me, the most insignificant of warriors, to slay the light of the world! How cruel, how callous, how blind of this lowly beast- man, to challenge the might, the divine right of rule inherent in the noble breast of All-High Wrathburn…' The barbarian trailed off, panting. He would have killed for a slug of ale; his tongue was practically hanging out.
Fortunately, Wrathburn took his cue. Pointing a long, whiskery snout at the distant cave mouth, he asked, 'Where lives this One King?'
Sunbright pounced. 'I can point the way!'
'Then do.' Picking up a foot as large as the One King's throne, the dragon crushed coins and made the cavern shake, jarring Sunbright's bones.
Scurrying out of the way, the young man took one last gasp and called, 'There is one more little thing, if it please your greatness?'
The head swiveled to aim nostrils like matched volcanoes at the human. 'Yes?'
'A book.'
Eyes closed, Sunbright gasped for breath and hung on with all his might. He didn't look down.
Hurricane winds tore at his face, yanked his topknot, whistled in his ears, and pressed his tackle so hard against his body it dented his skin. By the time they landed, he'd be blind, deaf, and bald. If his arms didn't fall off first. As long as he lived-which at this point he figured might be a little past sunset-he'd never even climb to the second story of a building.
For he was miles in the air, soaring faster than the wind. He perched standing on Wrathburn's neck, which was as slippery as sleet-slick flagstones. Both arms were wrapped tight around one of the horns rimming the dragon's frill. After careful consideration, he'd chosen this one for the craggy folds in the scaly skin at the base of the horn. These handholds, such as they were, had seemed adequate at the time. Now his fingernails ripped from his flesh as he tried to hang on, he pressed his face into the crook of his elbow to breathe, and he tensed his legs to the breaking point to remain in one spot. If he slid an inch, he thought, even a half-inch, he'd be flung into space like straw from a barn swallow's beak. And the last-and only-time he'd dared to look, the mountains below looked like gray smudges in a tablecloth.
Sunbright hadn't meant to be here. He'd hoped to 'point the way' to Tinnainen, then run like hell over hill and dale to get back to what remained of the city. Trotting and walking without stopping to sleep, resting only occasionally, he had reckoned it would take a long day. But the dragon had a different idea about what 'pointing the way' meant.
Wrathburn had been gracious enough to allow this poor mortal to ride his neck into battle. Never before, in the eons of his existence, had the dragon allowed such a thing. Usually, he explained, he dealt with average men by biting them in half. Troublesome types, knights and paladins and such, he often swallowed whole, armor and all, that they might awake in his churning stomach and so die slowly, proving their folly. Sunbright had smiled tightly and marveled aloud at the dragon's creativity, brilliance, and droll sense of humor, as befit a godlike being. Then, as commanded, he'd hastily grabbed a handhold, felt a rippling run like an earthquake, and watched the earth-and his lunch-recede until the mountain was a mere pinhead below him.
And the blasted dragon didn't even fly well! He didn't swoop like a hawk or glide like an albatross or soar like an eagle. He pumped his short red wings up and down like a drunk in a saw pit, like a demented duck, like a lopsided windmill. Dragons weren't meant to fly at all, the human judged. They were an anomaly in the air, just as bats were winged mice who flailed the air just to stay aloft. And all this flying must be giving the beast a tremendous appetite.
But he might never know. Chilled to the marrow and fatigued beyond endurance, Sunbright felt his numb fingers slipping. He'd reach earth before the dragon ever did. It might be worth it to get out of this damnable roaring wind.
Then the air was warmer, rushing upward. Sunbright erred by opening his eyes and saw a square lump like a child's sand castle. Then the dragon struck the earth with a gut-wrenching wallop that shook both of them. The barbarian unclawed his hands and crashed onto the rocks with his shoulder. For a moment, he hurt so much all over he didn't care if the dragon trod on him. Then he realized the great ruby-studded book was wedged against his back, grinding his kidneys, and he recalled his mission.
He'd done it. Maybe he'd be a legend after all.
Staring upward while willing life and warmth into his frozen muscles, he saw the sky suddenly occluded by a whiskered, horned head. The dragon peered down into his face, so close Sunbright breathed sulfur but dared not cough.
'Uh, thank you for the thrilling ride, O wise and beautiful Wrathburn!
'How looks this One King?' The earth shivered under Sunbright. 'Humans appear much alike to me.'
'He is tall and yellow-faced and wears a long robe and that wondrous crown I spoke of.' Wrathburn had listened intently when Sunbright talked of the platinum and gem-studded masterpiece. 'He is usually to be found in the biggest room in the largest building in the city.' The barbarian levered himself to one elbow, inadvertently banging Wrathburn's snout with the other. 'You can see the roof of the building above that wall!'
Yellow eyes pinned Sunbright like a butterfly. 'You do me great service to warn me of this viper so close to my bosom. You will wait here to accompany me back to my cave for your reward. Look forward, lucky human, to a long and illustrious career as song-singer for Wrathburn the All-High!'
Sunbright's face split into a grin like that of a dried skull. 'Joy!'
Then the dragon tromped off, tail dragging a furrow, like a ship come aground in a hurricane.
Rolling upright, Sunbright wiped his face with both hands and took what seemed his first breath of the day. He watched as the dragon thundered toward Tinnainen. The beast had landed on a flat stretch of lichen-covered rocks and tufted grass not far from the road. Sheep and goat pens lined the road on both sides, and the animals sent up a pitiful bleating at the sight and smell of the giant predator. From the small town surrounding the city, terrified homeowners either fled down the road, into the hills, or toward the gates of the city, shoving orcish and human guards aside to gain sanctuary. The frightened guards tottered like puppets, some fleeing, some fainting, some dropping to their knees to pray. And all along the gray city walls, Sunbright saw heads pop up to see the dragon, then disappear, only to pop up again. The smart folks, he decided, were seeking the deepest cellars to burrow into.
Whistling as he watched-the dragon's back was as high as the walls-Sunbright hoped the beast would merely take his quarrel to the One King and leave the city unharmed. He hated to think he might be responsible for the deaths of dozens if-
That hope evaporated along with a score of sheep and goats. As Wrathburn passed the pens, he snuffled and blew a firestorm of flame that slaughtered the livestock. Charred, smoking lumps were all that remained, except for an occasional bleating goat, its skin scorched half away. Even the battered corral stakes burned. The barbarian didn't know if Wrathburn was simply being destructive in a mean-spirited way, or if he cooked the animals to eat later. Either way, it seemed Tinnainen was going to pay for harboring the One King, occupied willingly or not. A wail of terror from the folk along the city wall echoed the thought.
But Sunbright had his own worries, his own tasks. Drawing Harvester, he trotted wide behind the dragon to keep out of the beast's line of vision. He had women to rescue, and scores to settle.
There were only three guards at the gates now, two orcs and a human. Trembling, they lifted their pikes as the dragon approached and called, 'Halt in the name of the One-'
Wrathburn wheezed, and flames shot from his nostrils. The stone gateposts blackened, the wooden doors ignited, even the granite threshold blistered. The guards shriveled to charred twists dotted with molten metal.
